I think Ive told this story before, but it bears repeating. Its long, so be warned. 7 years ago today, my wife was in labor with my daughter, Avery. There are two vital sign machines by the bed. One for mommy, one for baby. It was nearing go time, and before I got facefirst and up close with my first experience watching my wifes nether regions turn into a National Geographic documentary, she had a couple of docs around her getting her set for the home stretch. There was a chair in the back end of our room, and I was perched on top for a birds eye view, waiting for the coach to call me into the game. Out of nowhere, the baby monitor flatlined. FLAT LINED. Understand that I was born a little over 3 months premature, and by all accounts, dead. I was flown from Carmichael to Oakland Childrens hospital and after a few weeks and several blood transfusions, I made it. Barely. When I found out I was having a child, I was consumed with an irrational fear that somehow things would be hereditary, and my child would have a horrific birth. She wasnt premature by any means, but the fear stayed with me. So she was flatlined. All of a sudden a siren that I had never noticed before went off above the bed, and a nurse was barking codes over the intercom. A team of SWAT-like doctors rushed in, and things got really crazy. My wife sat straight up pleading to know what was happening, and we made eye contact from across the room. I cannot describe the look of horror in her eyes, and Im sure despite my best efforts, my eyes returned only helplessness. The docs put an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth and forced her back on the bed. As I stood on my chair unconsciously chewing a white towel Jerry Tarkanian style that I was supposed to be using to wipe sweat, they prepped her for emergency surgery. Everything was happening at light speed and in super slo-mo simultaneously, and yes- thats possible. They began to take the brakes off of her bed, and prepped her for the move to the OR. My first child was dying right in front of me, and there was absolutely nothing I could do to help either of my girls. Out of nowhere, a female voice yelled out HOLD ON. There was some rustling and movement around the back of the bed, and before I knew it they were resetting her brakes. The siren stopped. The tension meter in the room visibly changed. To this point I had been silent on my perch. Somehow I croaked out Can someone tell us whats happening? Was the threat over? Were they going to do the surgery on the spot? Jesus, did the baby die??? The same nurse who had stopped everything a minute prior turned to me- Looks like someone accidentally kicked the plug out of the monitor. You dont say. I then took a chainsaw off the counter and slowly hewed all of the medical staff into small, but edible pieces, so I could eat them later. Actually, that was only one idea I had. In reality, I hopped down, and checked on my wife. We held hands, kissed, and after an appropriate amount of time passed, the poking and prodding of baby prep resumed. I excused myself from the room, and on the way out a nurse said are you ok, Dad? I smiled weakly and nodded. I got to the bathroom and went in the stall. Thank goodness it was a solo bathroom, because I wasnt in there to pee. I was in there to sob like the baby I was about to have. And boy, did I. On my way back to the room, the floor doc stopped me. Again he asked if I was ok. Again, I said yes. He said Can I give you a little advice? A little girl isnt the only thing being born today. Before you become a parent, there are two organs that lie dormant in your body. One will give you the greatest feelings of pride and joy you could possibly experience. Feelings youve flat-out never had before. The other? Capable of sheer horror. You will feel fear the likes of which you cannot imagine. Helplessness and despair so concentrated and pure, it can quite literally disable you. Its why no one can truly understand being a parent, until it actually happens. They just dont possess the anatomy. You just experienced one side of things. Youll be experiencing the other part in about 30 minutes. He smiled, patted my shoulder, and shuffled down the hall. 7 years later, all I can say is: Thats damn right Doc. Damn straight. So happy birthday Avery. You changed my whole world, and I am totally and unequivocally yours. Please stop growing.
Posted on: Sun, 05 Oct 2014 21:11:19 +0000